


Liebeslied

by SunkenPilot



Category: Voltron - Fandom
Genre: Adam is a fighter pilot, Adam is alive, Fix-it fic, M/M, Piano, Season Seven spoilers, Voltron, legendary defenders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-14
Updated: 2018-12-14
Packaged: 2019-09-18 03:02:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16986900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunkenPilot/pseuds/SunkenPilot
Summary: An Adashi fix-it fic that I wrote in a day for a test at school.  Ha





	Liebeslied

Who am I?

The answer I’ve been searching.

I am nobody. 

The answer I’ve found.

You don’t know me.

You probably never will. 

My name is Adam, and I am a captain at the Galaxy Garrison, a military force dedicated to exploring space. And for the last two years, we’ve been under war with an alien race. My squadron and I were one of the first to be sent out to the front lines, six months ago. And about a month ago, I watched the rest of my squadron getting picked off by the alien’s ion cannon. I went down fighting and my F-1 fell prey to the cannon and I was shot down. And I’ve been here. The woods so vast I haven’t been able to leave.

I’m not someone you will know for my actions. I will not be given medals for honour or any recognition, not be written on a plaque or statue. Maybe in a report my name will be mentioned in a footnote.

I lean against the piano and press my hands down onto the keys as I look behind me, and see a circling figure in the air. I can’t tell what it is, I shrug it off, thinking it was a bird.

That is alright however. I don’t need that. Nobody needs it. They are only metals, melted down and reshaped. That sounds more like me. I am the one that makes them. No one knows the man who shapes cheap medals into awards for winners, Maybe.

And again. 

But all that doesn’t matter. I stand here, with my eyes closed. I am leaning against the stained birch wood of the abandoned piano. But my insides are still fiery. My breathing was heavy. 

And again. Faint memories of a song my ex-fiance and I had learnt during a piano lesson we had taken together. 

I do not cry. I haven’t lost things to cry about. It’s more like, I forgot how to cry about them. I cried about being alone. I’ve cried for so many things. My sister who had passed at the age of thirteen to cancer, my ex-fiance who had left me for a chance to explore the moon, the war. Last I heard, my ex-fiance was back from space and was now piloting The Atlas, Saviour of the World. I haven’t seen it. I’ve been stuck here. The reasons are different, but they all are describing the same feeling. 

And a melodic sound rings through the woods, the sound crying out just as my heart was. What for? Everything.

I do not cry. I can’t cry. People say, that I hate myself, or consider myself to be worthless. At a time, that may have been true, but it was a long time ago. 

When I told him I wouldn’t be waiting if he went off to the moon. That was when I truly hated myself.

I have moved past that time. Stepping back and letting go is not a resignation of my self worth. I just stopped trying to be what others wanted. I am not special. At least, not in this universe. Either way, I have accepted it and I’ve stopped trying. 

I see a plane circling, that’s what it was, I must be hallucinating after being out here in the woods for so long. The cold, clammy hands of death must be here for me. Thank God.

I do not cry. I am a soldier and I’m not in it for glory. And I keep fighting, because this war bigger than me. It would be selfish not to do everything to protect the innocent. 

I do not cry. Still, I’m tired. I’m so, so, so, tired. There is always more to do. There is never enough time. I will never go home. That's the life I live, and I have accepted that. 

I bring my hands down to the piano once more and the plane was above me now. 

As the plane was attempting to land in the clearing, my hands flew over the keyboard, faint memories of a song resurfacing, Kreisler’s Liebeslied.

Love’s Sorrow

The plane was an F-1, from what I could tell, it was a Galaxy Garrison ship. The glass was sliding down and someone was stepping out, clad in black and white armour, a pair of eyes only slightly visible through the visor.

My hands flew along the keys as the person walked towards me.

DON’T HOPE

He took off his helmet.

I can’t hope. 

But I can’t help it…

Please.

DON’T HOPE.

Please.

DON’T HOPE 

Please be him. 

I HOPED.

The sound rang through all the forest, and the man dropped his helmet. 

I could faintly hear my name being called, “Adam? Is that you?” 

I can’t look at him. 

This has to be a dream.

This can’t be real. 

This must be death coming for me. 

A final dirty joke. A human punch line.

No. It was him.

He wiped the sweat off his forehead and gave me an awkward toothy grin, and took steady steps towards me, “Love’s Sorrow…you remembered…” His face was so different, but had an air of familiarity to it. God I had missed that face, I had missed him. “I know I was only supposed to be gone a year…..turned out my trip got extended to five….after getting captured by Galra and dying. And then being resurrected by a Altean princess.” He awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck.

“What.” 

“What.” That was the first word I had said to someone in a month, as if my voice was echoing my thoughts.. My voice crackling and choked from the tears I didn’t know I’ve been crying. “What did you say.” 

“I’m sorry it took so long to find you...I swear...I swear I’ve been searching to find you ever since we defeated the Galra a month ago...” 

“You defeated them.” My voice was still choked from sobs, “I can’t believe that you’re here….I’m sorry….I’m sorry..”

I was cut off by him, “I shouldn’t have left for space. You were right. Now, let’s go home.”

It’s over!

And he’s back...

With that, my hands stopped on a single key, and I dropped to my knees. 

Kriesler truely was right.


End file.
